When She Smiles
by piccolina789
Summary: Sometimes her smile is all he needs. Fluffy one-shot, all GSR.


_A/N: A little one-shot to satisfy my need to write GSR, despite my lack of ideas or creativity lately. I hope this story hasn't been done similarly many times before, as I loved the idea of it in my head. I also apologize for any spelling/grammar errors as I wrote this at an appalling time in the morning and I wanted to get it posted to see what you lovely readers think :)

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Leaving the lab in a huff of grumpiness, I push open the doors harder than necessary and sulk past Hodges, who is fidgeting for my attention, without a second glance. I practically run to my Denali, which is parked further away from the lab's front doors than usual, due to my abysmal lateness at the start of shift. I groan at the sight of a bright yellow slip of paper tucked under the front windshield wipers and pray that it's just an ad. I only groan loader when I snatch it from its entrapment and find a name and number scribbled upon it.

I peek around the corner of my car, and find the driver's side bumper significantly crushed in. I close my eyes for a brief second before re-reading the name on the paper. It's vaguely familiar… someone on days, if I had to bet on it. Opening the trunk, I toss my kit in the backseat, where the latches promptly come loose and all the contents spill onto the floor. Great. Just great.

I slam the trunk door shut and make my way to the side of the car, where I try my best to clean the various dusts and powders spilled all over the backseat. Four new jars of fingerprint dust… wasted.

After scooping up as much of it as I could, I close the side door and reach for the driver's door. It doesn't budge.

In an act completely unlike me, I take a violent swing at the front tire with my foot, hoping it will help release some of the day's frustrations. All I end up with is a throbbing foot. I peer into the window and see my keys lying on the floor of the backseat, next to the spilt kit. I whip out my phone.

"Jim? Gil. I need your help in the parking lot. No, no. Just car assistance. Okay. Thanks."

Brass joins me in the lot minutes later, unlocking the damned Denali and retrieving my keys from the inside.

"Thanks, Jim," I say with a sigh.

"Don't worry about it," he replies, clapping my shoulder. "Hey, take it easy tonight."

"Will do."

I watch his retreating back before sliding into the driver's seat. I start the car and begin the journey home, reflecting on the day from hell.

It had started off with a migraine, a pounding, searing migraine that didn't cease even after I'd used all my usual tricks. I'd had migraines before, but this one would become different, a signal for just the beginning.

The car ran out of gas on the way to the lab. A traffic accident blocked my normal route, and the detour, jammed with cars, got me to the lab an hour behind schedule. I was greeted by overdue paperwork at my desk and in Ecklie's hands.

I was ready to see my team, anxious for them to brighten my day. I was greeted by just Catherine. Warrick, apparently, had misplaced his badge and was on the hunt for it. Nick had shown up an hour before, but with a whooping cough and a red, runny nose, and Catherine said she had sent him right back home. It was Sara's night off.

Somehow, with a helping hand from the lab rats and a few extra bodies pulled in from Swing, we got the caseload covered. My scene was a disaster. The responding officer was a newbie, and had apparently slept through the class on crime scene protocol. His boot prints and fingerprints were everywhere, and it was hard to find a thing he _didn't_ touch at the scene. The coroner was delayed an hour from the damned traffic.

From there, it was just one thing after another. I ran out of luminal. I got a call from the lab saying Archie had lost all power in the AV lab and Greg was four days behind in DNA, so not to expect an ID on my DB any time soon. And, as soon as I started to process the outside of my John Doe's home, it started to rain.

I collected what I could and made for the lab, temper running high and patience running low. I was accosted by Hodges the minute I set foot in the lab, chatting on about some trace evidence he had identified from one of my open cases. I lost him as I turned a sharp corner, not in the mood for his ass-kissing antics tonight.

And thus, with Ecklie barking a reminder about overdue evaluations, my shift from hell concluded. Until, of course, the kit and key incidents. Thank God I was finally on my way back to my townhouse, my sanctuary, where I could do nothing but make a cup of tea and relax. Although I doubted that even that would eradicate my frustrations and calm my sky-high heart rate. Nothing, I conclude, _nothing_, could make this day turn out okay.

That was before I remember what was waiting at home for me. I slam my front door shut (after slipping on the wet pavement and nearly breaking my leg) and press my back against it. That's when I see it. A small, chocolate brown leather coat is draped across a living room chair. Despite myself, despite everything, I find the smallest of smiles creeping across the corners of my mouth. I kick my sopping wet shoes into the kitchen, disposing of my briefcase and jacket along the way, making it into my bedroom at last. That's when I see her.

Clad in only a tank top and a pair of my boxers, her long limbs are spread across my bed. Her hand dangles off the edge of the mattress and her hair cascades over my pillow.

I make my way towards her, taking in every inch of her as I lightly run my fingers up her legs, across her stomach, over her arms and into her hair. I bury my hand deep in her soft brown curls. My heart beats fast as I trace my fingers over her face and smile at the freckles on her exposed shoulder. _My Sara._

She looks so peacefully and deeply asleep, but I feel a need arise within me. The urge grows in my chest, and soon enough, I find my fingers gently pushing against her, whispering her name.

"Sara? Honey?"

Her eyes flutter open and the corners of her mouth turn up at the recognition of my voice. I feel a calm already settling over me, but I know it's not enough.

"Gil," she murmurs.

"Can I ask you something silly?"

"Anything," she replies, reaching up to touch my face. I gently back her hand away.

"Smile for me, Sara."

A brief look of intrigue crosses her face, but in a matter of seconds, a slow, wide grin spreads across her face. It's full and genuine and 100 percent Sara, and my whole body feels warm as the pressures of the day slip from my mind. Everything from the migraine to the fingerprint powder seems miles away, lost in Sara's smile. Because when Sara smiles, the world is beautiful again.

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_If you have a comment, let me know! I love and appreciate any feedback. xx_


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